


Just Kisses

by tiptoe39



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Kissing, M/M, Oral Sex, Porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-19
Updated: 2012-11-19
Packaged: 2017-11-19 02:21:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/567969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tiptoe39/pseuds/tiptoe39
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel's not ready for anything beyond kisses. So Dean just kisses him. Everywhere.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Kisses

**Author's Note:**

> [](http://zatnikatel.livejournal.com/profile)[**zatnikatel**](http://zatnikatel.livejournal.com/) teased me with the image and made me write it. [](http://squeemonster.livejournal.com/profile)[**squeemonster**](http://squeemonster.livejournal.com/) was an enabler. And all was beautiful in the world. Originally posted on [Tumblr](http://tiptoe39.tumblr.com/post/35957350642/just-kisses-dean-cas-nc-17).

“Just kisses,” he says, “no more than kisses, please, Dean, I’m not ready.”

“OK, Cas,” Dean whispers, “just kisses.”

So he kisses Castiel, kisses his mouth, kisses the apple of his cheek and the corner of his eye, and when he kisses the angle of his jaw Castiel tips his head back, lets the kisses continue. Lips on his neck, on the lobe of his ear, but it’s still only kisses. And when Dean pulls at his collar with one hand to kiss down to the place where neck meets shoulder, Castiel still lets him, his eyelashes fluttering, soft moans rumbling up from that same point on his throat, vibrating against Dean’s lips, heartbeat thrumming, everything quickening.

Dean drops one hand to his waist, slides it under his shirt, fingers on skin, and Castiel flinches. Still, he doesn’t stop him. He’s too busy trying to kiss back, pursing his lips against Dean’s hairline and the crown of his head, trying to catch some skin. Kisses to his mouth he could give back, but now he’s only got a bit of Dean to hold onto. He could grab back, and his hands twitch, think about it, but then it wouldn’t be just kissing and he’s afraid of what happens when it’s more than that.

If every kiss is making his whole body go to pieces, every piece flying about in crazy wingbeats of sensation, how can he handle more than kisses?

Dean’s fingers are at his tie, and his buttons are being undone, and Castiel pushes away, panting, scared, his eyes wide and his mouth open with the words he doesn’t know how to say. Dean at arm’s length is too far away, and the urge to haul him in is burning through Castiel’s muscles. But no. no. And that’s the word he’s looking for. “No.”

“OK,” Dean says, and he’s panting hard too, his breath unruly too. “OK, Cas. No problem. We can stop.”

“No,” Castiel says again, “no, don’t stop, I, Dean…” Language is all jumbled in his brain. He wants, but… but fingers are dangerous, and the painful lump of his cock in his pants is terrifying. But lips are soft and tongues are sweet and kisses, kisses are safe, “Just kisses,” he says again.

“Where?” Dean says. “Where can I kiss you?”

Castiel looks at him. Shakes his head. “Anywhere.”

“Anywhere’s a lot of places, Cas…”

“Anywhere.” And Castiel moves to the bed, undoes one of his shirt buttons.

A flicker of pain crosses Dean’s face. “Cas,” he says, his throat running aground on the syllable, the vowel skidding to a hoarse stop.

“Anywhere, Dean,” Castiel says again. He’s found the line he wants to draw, and it brings a bright boldness to his tone. “Anywhere, so long as it’s kisses. Is that all right?”

Dean nods. He swallows hard, and he moves to the foot of the bed, drops to his knees. “I’mma take your clothes off,” he says. “Cas. Promise, just kisses.”

Castiel shivers hard. “Fine.”

One shoe is pried off his foot, then the other. Then socks. “Just kisses,” Dean repeats.

And instead of repeating fine, Castiel hears himself say “Please.”

Dean’s lips alight on the tip of his big toe, then the knuckle of it. It’s a strange, tickling sensation. Castiel bites his lip, lets the pain keep him from laughing. But the laughter fades when Dean lifts his foot, kisses the ball under his big toe, then presses his lips to the very center of Castiel’s arch. Ticklish, still, but wet, warm, reverent, and Castiel’s free foot flexes in a silent plea for the same treatment. When Dean switches feet, presses ardent kisses to the top of it, Castiel can let out a sigh.

And then Dean’s tongueing around his ankle in soft circles, licking in and switching sides to draw his tongue forward along the bone, and Castiel lifts his hips in a sudden rush. “Dean,” he mutters, and at a loss for what to do, he finds his shirt buttons and unfastens two more of them. Under his open shirt, he can breathe easier, and his chest rises and falls. He hears the rasping of his own breath, feels his lungs tighten around his held inhalation as Dean stops kissing long enough to pull at the cuffs of his pants. Castiel doesn’t remember undoing his zipper or his belt, but the slacks fall off in a sudden rush of fabric, and now the air is kissing his skin where Dean isn’t, and he’s all goosebumps.

“Dean,” he murmurs, the name sliding over a few ill-tuned notes, and Dean rises to look down at him. He curses under his breath, reaches out, hand touching Castiel’s. It skips up his arm, to his chest, and when it rasps over one nipple Castiel cries out. “Dean, just kisses, you promised.”

Dean withdraws his hand. “Sorry,” he says. “Sorry, Cas. Can … I can kiss you there, though?”

The plea in his voice makes Castiel want to grab him and drag him down and plunge headlong into all the dangerous territory he’s demanding Dean avoid. Dean’s hands plundering him, Dean’s fingers pushing inside him, Dean’s cock riding hot and hard against Castiel’s stomach, God, yes, he wants it, but not yet, not unless they can do this. “Yes,” he breathes, and his shoulders twitch, shoving that one hardening nipple upward toward Dean. Dean exhales sharply and meets it.

Castiel’s cry is instant, harsh and sharp, and Dean pulls away, alarmed. Castiel twitches upward again, demanding. “Dean, Dean, more, do it,” and when Dean does, all wet soft tongue, Castiel can feel wetness appear at the tip of his exposed cock, drag against the skin of his stomach. It feels like a kiss too, and he craves Dean’s mouth there now, immediately. “Dean, Dean, I need,” he begs, his hands clawing at the bed’s comforter. “More.” But Dean doesn’t go to where he needs it. Instead he switches nipples, drawing the other one to hardness with careful pulling teeth. Dean’s name breaks from Castiel’s throat again, the fiftieth or hundredth time maybe, but if he doesn’t shout it the feeling will engulf him and he’ll be burned alive. “Dean” or death.

“Fuck, Cas,” Dean breathes against his chest, “you should see yourself, oh, my God.”

“More.” Castiel lifts his hips. His cock bumps against Dean’s collarbone, telltale. “More, Dean, now.”

“Just kisses.” And when Dean grins against his skin, dread meets desire in a hot-cold wash of sweat across Castiel’s neck.

Dean’s lips are gone too soon and too long, and when they land again, they’re on Castiel’s side, sliding down in nibbling licks to his hipbone. Dean’s hands are on Castiel’s thighs, just to hold him down, and Castiel knows he’s bucking against them, trying to break free though he doesn’t want to succeed. He can’t help it. His whole body’s rioting. The world’s shaking and he can’t possibly stay still in the middle of it.

Dean’s teeth graze against the hardness of his hipbone, his lips travel and soothe, and Castiel’s thighs tense under Dean’s hands, trying to pump up and apart. His cock throbs. “Dean, please,” he says, unsure if he’s crying or if he just sounds like it. his voice quavers dangerously in his ear.  
  
Dean’s hands slide down to his knees. Kisses alight along his thigh, nipping upward. Castiel’s never been so aware of his balls, of the hungry pull of his hole. With every shake the nerve endings deep inside him are firing, and he wants. He wants everything dirty and dangerous that he’s been so afraid of. It makes him twice as afraid, but it’s such a delicious fear.  
  
“Just kisses,” Dean murmurs, and then hot lips against soft fuzz and skin and Castiel’s balls explode with sensation.  
  
“Dean!” He shouts, and his voice breaks like a teenager’s, and Dean’s hands are just enough to keep him from jerking up so hard he breaks Dean’s jaw with the force of it. His cock, oh, God, his cock is begging, jerking and straining, and still Dean just kisses at his balls, one at a time, a brushing kiss across the front and then a lick into the back of his sac. Castiel’s made of electricity, sparks jumping up and through him a thousand at a time. And with every wash of Dean’s tongue, the sparks are dampened, keeping them from exploding him, keeping him just on the edge. He gasps, his hands clench and unclench, and the echoes of his own cries ring in his ears.  
  
Dean slides backward, lets Castiel’s balls go, and there’s only a moment of relief, only time for a single breath before his tongue is somewhere else Castiel can’t even name but is making him shout again and shake the whole bed with the force of his thrashing body.  
  
When Dean’s lips brush against his hole it’s not like lightning so much as deep resonant thunder — soft, warm, intense, but only an echo. The licks inside him bring the electricity closer, but Dean hasn’t even touched Castiel’s cock yet, and it’s all he can think about now. “Dean, my … oh… oh, God, my …” He forces the word from his mouth, a word he’s never spoken. “My cock… please…”  
  
Another obscenely warm wash of tongue inside him, and Castiel shudders, and Dean murmurs, “I hear you,” and works his way forward again.  
  
And here it comes, the lightning storm Castiel has been begging for. He tightens his grip on the sheets, squeezes his eyes shut, prays to all the carnal gods to survive it.  
  
It’s just a kiss.  
  
One, wet, soft kiss against the tip of his cock.  
  
It’s almost soothing. Castiel blinks, mouth parting, surprised, confused.  
  
Another kiss, longer than the first, with a brief wash of tongue.  
  
Muddled, warm bliss makes its way down Castiel’s spine, and he moans. The electricity and the want’s dampening into something warmer and more deliberate, and he relaxes as Dean kisses the head of his cock again and again, soft and steady.  
  
“Oh,” Castiel hears himself say, “oh, yes, good, Dean… good.”  
  
Kisses down his shaft, on one side and then the next. Kisses digging into the root, the vein at the base. A lick upward. And kisses pressed to his stomach, just below, lapping up the pre-come that’s long since dried into a sticky glaze there. Castiel moans, rolls his hips up. More kisses, chaste presses of lips with no tongue, covering every inch of his shaft. Dean takes a minute to lick his lips, make them wet and pliant again, then slides them upward in a shudder-inducing meander. When they close over his cockhead again, Castiel lets out a long, low moan.  
  
More intense now, harder, presses of wet lips and flickering tongue, venturing down to his balls, and the storm is building again with alarming quickness. Castiel tries to push his cock up into Dean’s mouth, wanting to be buried in that wetness, wanting to feel it all over him at once. But all he’s getting is another kiss, and then another, Dean’s lips smacking together obscenely with the close of every one. A thick, wet percussion, all saliva and skin, and each one sends a spark of heat up through the root of Castiel’s cock up through the tip. He’s starting to let out beads of pre-come again, but it’s so slow, God, so insanely slow and deliberate, and though Dean’s kisses come faster and deeper they’re still not giving him what he wants.  
  
It’s the curse of just kisses, and Castiel’s been plunged straight to hell. He reaches out, grabs Dean’s hair and tugs, trying to force Dean’s mouth onto him. “Dean, Dean, more.” His free hand grabs the comforter so hard the fabric rips beneath his fingers. Hips canting up, breath coming faster, panting, and still nothing but kisses on his cock, nestling into the spot between stomach and base, dancing up his shaft, enveloping his cockhead in warmth that’s too quickly gone.  
  
“More,” he breathes for the thousandth time.  
  
Dean dares to stop long enough to murmur, “More what?”  
  
Castiel can’t believe his own answer. “More kisses,” he hears himself say, “kiss my cock, more, Dean, please, kiss my cock again and again, over and over… kiss it,” and Dean is, kissing hotter and harder and wetter, punctuating each of Castiel’s demands, “kiss it, harder, Dean, more, Dean, kiss it… kiss it— _ahh_ —”  
  
His voice breaks, everything breaks— nothing but white in front of his eyes — the obscene noises of Dean’s lips smacking hard in his eardrums — his hips breaking upward, and the pleasure and the want so intense and tangible that he can feel it hovering in the air, unbearable, for the longest moment —  
  
and the sound of his own shout comes ricocheting back to him after echoing after the walls, his throat pulses with the soreness that follows a scream, and he’s wet, spurting, pulsing, painting Dean and his own stomach with stickiness. His heart pounds. His breaths rasp. Hard, hard inhalations and exhalations grate at his lungs, and he forces his hips down to the bed again.  
  
Dean crawls up his body, licking his lips and dropping kisses on Castiel’s body here and there as he goes. When Castiel opens bleary eyes to look at his face, he laughs. A glob of white is clinging to his cheek, and Castiel leans forward to suck it off, marveling at the strange watery taste. When Dean’s mouth meets his, the kiss is strange, salty, delicious.  
  
“Just kisses,” Dean murmurs into his mouth, “just like I promised.”  
  
“Don’t ever stick to just kisses again,” Castiel says. He tries to look cross, but the scowl won’t stay on his face.  
  
Dean’s laugh answers his own. “Well,” he says, “if you insist. I don’t wanna overwhelm you.”  
  
Castiel tries doubly hard to scowl at that, but he can’t make it happen. So he just pulls Dean’s face to his and kisses him instead.  
  
Kisses really do seem particularly effective.

  



End file.
